


You Learn Something New Every Day

by gala_apples



Series: Shameless First Impressions [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Play, Brotherly Affection, F/M, First Time Bottoming, Fuckbuddies, M/M, Season/Series 01, Sexual Experimentation, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: After Ian’s news has some time to sink in, Lip finds himself questioning his assumptions. He has to educate himself, because if Gallagher life has taught him anything it's that no one else is going to go to the effort.
Relationships: Karen Jackson/Originale Male Character(s), Lip Gallagher/Karen Jackson, Lip Gallagher/Karen Jackson/OMC, Lip Gallagher/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Shameless First Impressions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724326
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	You Learn Something New Every Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'anal play' for seasonofkink, and also 'that's almost the same thing' for my Shameless prompt card.
> 
> Post Season One, I was just overwhelmed with how much Lip cares about Ian. There's the line in the pilot, 'name one time I've ever let you down', and Ian can't name a time. I can't help but feel that Lip feels bad about the trying to turn him straight thing, and wants to educate himself on what Ian's life is actually like.

The night of his heart to heart in the car with Ian -Donkey Dick Roger Spikey, really?- Lip sneaks out of the house. Well, sneaks implies someone would care enough to stop him. Frank is out in the world somewhere, fucked up or passed out, clearly not fit to care about what his eldest son is doing. Fiona cares but wouldn’t stop him, trusts he knows if he’s doing something that has to be done. And everyone else is asleep. But what he’s doing feels illicit and he sure the fuck is going to lie about it at breakfast, if anyone should notice, so sneaking feels like the right description.

It’s only a few blocks to Karen’s, a quick jog at two in the morning. Lip doesn’t have the communal phone, can’t text or call her to come outside, but she’s a light sleeper, always wakes up when he throws rocks at her window. It’s probably hell to live underneath train tracks, endless interruptions, but it works in his favour now. She throws the emergency escape ladder out the window, and when he doesn’t climb up she layers on a few hoodies and climbs down.

They don’t go far. Apart from whispering in her bedroom, they have a handful of locations they hang out. Lip’s favourite is directly under the train tracks, so he can scream along with the squealing of the wheels on the rails. Tonight it’s the standard sleeping bags stashed in the shed, carried to a nearby shitty park. The homeless citizens have all the best spots staked out, anywhere that provides a slight windbreak, so Lip slings his maroon bag on top of the patchy snowy grass and waits for Karen to drop down beside him.

They make out for a bit. Of course they do. It’s kind of hard to hang out with Karen and something _not_ happen. Ian was only half right in his claim of doubting a blowie because Lip hadn’t told him immediately. Usually Lip does, he enjoys sex too much to not spread the joy of it having happened. Karen’s different though. With Karen it’d be like telling Ian he’d brushed his teeth, or tied his shoes. Routine, bizarre to brag about. The only reason he brought the tutoring instance up was as an opening for the gay confrontation. Lip enjoys making out, don’t get him wrong. He’s hard when they come to a natural pause in the events, and he’s sure Karen’s wet. But he snuck out to have a conversation, not to come, so he doesn’t make an effort to unzip his pants, or hers. She’s similarly lethargic, probably from the lack of sleep.

“You’ve had threesome, right? Girl guy ones?” He knows she has. It’s one of the things he likes about her most, that she doesn’t lie about who she is, or does. They’re the same level of slut, a level he can only appreciate.

“Yeah huh,” she mutters into his arm, not like she’s hiding, just like she’s too comfortable to lift up her head.

“Was it good? Like both sides?”

“Depends on which one. The Danielle D’Souza and Alex Marin one was good. The Montana Gilbert and Brad Palmer one too. But the Jessie Sinclair and Ford Dexter was lame. Jessie only kissed me when Ford was looking, and she hadn’t cut her nails. It basically turned into a blowjob competition. Why? Do you not want to fuck tonight? Too cold? Just want a memory to jerk off to in your own bed? You have to tell me one of yours too, it’s only fair.”

Shit. Lip’s never fucked a girl this cool before, and he doubts he’ll ever find someone better in the future. Is there a marriage adjacent option for fuck buddies? Because seriously, he never wants to lose Karen. She’s the only person in the world it’s easy to say “I think I want to have a threesome with you and a guy” to.

“Shit. Really?”

“Was thinking so.” It’s all he’s thought about all day, actually. He’s been a bit of a dick getting used to the idea of Ian being full blown gay. Could have been a lot worse, granted, the neighbourhood’s not exactly full of open minded folks as role models. But still, he has to do better. He has to understand this, for Ian. Lip’s not pulling a Fiona, it’s not like he’s going to step in and be everyone’s dad. Fiona wouldn’t do this anyway, sleep with someone as a means to an end. Lip’s smarter, and meaner, and built without the slightest shred of abstract thinking. Fiona’s practical, but Lip is tangible only, and if he wants to understand his closest brother, he has to have the situation in hand.

“You kinda gay?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just want to try it. You know anyone bi?”

“Not from the neighbourhood. But it’s a big school.”

Lip tilts his head in consideration. “Probably for the best.” If everybody’s looking at him for being gay they’ll look at all the Gallaghers, and it’ll be harder for Ian to hide his dumb cheating bullshit with Kash.

“I’ll text around tomorrow. I should be able to tell you by the end of school.”

Lip pulls her in for another kiss. He’s got the best friend in the world.

The sentiment doubles at three thirty Thursday when Karen tells him to meet in the McDonald’s parking lot at nine when the guy’s shift is over. When you’re South Side, follow through on big talked game is hardly a guarantee. Now it’s his turn to nut up or shut up. Not that this Sam guy would really suffer if Lip bailed, and he ‘only’ got to have sex with Karen. He doesn’t give a shit about Sam anyway. This is about being better for Ian. That’s not something he’s going to just fucking back down on.

When the time is right, Lip makes his excuses to Carl and Debbie and Veronica, the only people currently home. None bother to interrogate him, whether they buy it or not. The bike he steals -is it really stealing if there’s no way it belongs to the yard he takes it from, it being purple with tassels and the Chikbaris having two sons- gets him to McDonalds a few minutes before nine. Karen is inside, he can see the colour of her coat in the lobby, but Lip holds back. He smokes a cigarette near the Employees Only exit, beside the dumpster. He’s finished it and is considering the joint tucked in the cigarette box when the metal door finally opens.

Objectively speaking, Sam is cute. He’s white, with fluffy blonde hair. It’s a little matted from the visor he no doubt had to wear, but Lip can imagine Karen sinking her fingers into it to tug his head to the right place for oral. He’s still got the rest of his uniform on, under a unzipped jacket, which is a good look for no one, but hey, Lip’s not exactly rocking assless chaps himself.

“Hey Lip, I’m Sam,” he says, voice as white bread varsity jock as his appearance would imply.

“Yeah, Karen said.”

“Sidecar picks the music. So with that in mind, where do you want to sit?” he asks congenially, directing them through the parking lot to his car, a decent looking Impala. No doubt the minimum wage job is part of a deal with his parents that they’ll cover insurance if he pays his own gas. Lip highly fucking doubts he has the same tastes as Sam, but it’s a shitty introduction to diss someone’s playlists, so he slips into the back and gives Karen dominion over the iPod plugged into the cigarette lighter.

Sam’s house is about the same size as Lip’s, with one major difference: it doesn’t look like a rundown shithole. Makes sense, Sam’s probably not scrounging for change and charging friends for tutoring to pay the power bill. There’s no sense in being bitter about it, it just is.

Sam kicks his shoes onto the front mat and directs them to do the same. At least it’s not as batshit crazy as Mrs Jackson. There’s a reason Lip usually sneaks into Karen’s house through the window. He can only handle so much crazy. Rather than guide them into his room, once they’re following him Sam leads them to the living room, where his parents are both watching CSI on a camel coloured double recliner couch. 

“Hey Mom. Hey Dad. This is Karen and Phillip. We’re gonna fuck.”

Lip doesn’t burst into a bout of coughing, but it’s a close thing. Not remotely the introduction he was expecting.

Sam’s dad mutes the tv to ask “you have enough condoms?” 

Ah, so it’s a Gallagher kind of a house, not a Jackson type of house. 

“Yeah, I’m set.”

“Remember to pee if there’s penetration, Karen dear, to avoid a UTI.” 

“Thanks Eliza,” Karen says to Sam’s mom. First name basis means she’s been here at least a few times. Hopefully it means he's good in bed. If Lip’s gonna do this he at least wants to be entertained.

“Remember, the more relaxed you are the better it’s gonna be,” Sam’s dad adds to the pile of advice.

Maybe it’s not a permissive or authoritarian house. Maybe it’s a hippie free love house. Lip’s pretty sure Fiona wouldn’t chime in on specifics. Ask if he had a condom, maybe, if she was home at the time. Tell him to steal one from Veronica and Kevin, if he had to. But next thing he knows, these guys might be suggesting positions. It’s a lot to take from pudgy middle aged white collar parents.

Thank the lord, Sam steers them up the stairs with a final promise of turning the music up before Mr and Mrs Sam can get even more graphic. Either Sam doesn’t have siblings, or they’re tucked behind a different closed door, because Sam’s room is expansive, with a single queen sized bed. Luxury at its finest.

“I’m gonna have a quick shower, get the grease trap smell off. You two can start if you want, though I do love a good stripshow. The condoms are in the same place, Kar.”

With that, Sam disappears into an adjoining bathroom. Okay, no, _that_ is the luxury calling. Having an en-suite is a hell of a far cry from one shower and two toilets for seven people.

Lip means to start things without Sam, he really does. The deeper he’s into the scene of fucking Karen, the less likely he’ll be to lose his hard on. It’s just, it’s a rare act of hedonism to be able to stretch out on a queen mattress, fully undressed. He doesn’t want to let go of Karen long enough for her to get a condom, and before he knows it, Sam is back, steam cloud exiting the bathroom with him. His hair is darker and curlier now, still objectively a good look for him. He’s got a towel around his waist, which seems a bit modest for what’s about to happen, but Lip’s hardly going to rag on him for it. It’s not like he’s got a raging desire to see that dick anyway, except maybe to do some mental math about length and girth and submersion volume. 

Several steps out of the bathroom, Sam seems to change his mind about something. He goes back into the bathroom, Lip hears the bang of a cupboard, and when he comes back out he’s got a bottle of Listerine and a mug.

“Hey, you mind gargling?”

“Yeah, he’ll eat ass but he doesn’t like the taste of cigarettes,” Karen laughs.

“Hey, only one of those two things has arsenic and ammonia,” Sam defends.

Lip doesn’t want to eat ass. Is Ian eating ass? Not the impression he got about Roger, and if Ian and Kash are only fucking in-store, seems unlikely. He will if etiquette demands it, he guesses, but it’s probably avoidable. 

He swishes and spits the overpowering mint, as required, then falls back onto his back on the bed. Karen too, didn’t get up to follow the request, but she stays sitting on the bed as Sam joins them. The towel is in a perilous position now, dark open triangle from his splayed legs. If he was a girl, Lip would want so badly to reach his hand up there and start fingering her. 

“So Karen obviously told me you wanted a threesome, but she didn’t tell me any details. I’m pretty vers’. Is there anything you had in mind?”

Lip doesn’t have to think about it long. He knows what he wants, as long as it’s a shade of want that means necessity, not desire. “You should fuck me.”

“That sounds pretty great to me,” Sam smiles. He’s so fuckin’ happy, Lip can see why he’s an interesting flavour of sex to Karen.

Sam doesn’t fuck around. He’s got a nightstand of either side of his bed. One of them holds an alarm clock and a lamp. The other has some middle class decorative basket bullshit. Or so Lip thinks, until Sam reaches in and pulls out a bottle of lube. It’s a big fucking tube, the size and shape of a dick down to the curved cap. Lip doesn’t think Ian has pockets big enough to just carry one on him. Maybe it’s hidden in the store? Though that would risk Kash’s wife finding it. Maybe it comes in travel size? Lip’s never looked into it, Karen and all the other girls have always been wet enough without it.

Lip startles when Sam lays on his side behind him and Sam’s fingers slide against his asshole. Stupid of him, really, he knew it had to happen. If he acts like a scared virgin here, Karen’s going to call abort for him, and that won’t help anything.

“Been awhile, huh,” Sam asks, not seeming to expect an answer. “That’s okay, I’ve got you. Don’t think about it, just feel it.”

That’s stupid, him saying that is _stupid_. The fuck does he think Lip is doing, except feeling a slippery wet hand where it shouldn’t be? What if Ian doesn’t even bottom? What if this is all for nothing?

Sam continues to caress him. It oddly becomes less and less unsettling like rubbing velvet in the wrong direction. As Sam’s fingers glide back and forth over the length of his asscrack, it almost becomes... just another touch? Too good to be true, though. Because as soon as Lip feels like he’s not the human equivalent of a hissing cat, Sam switches it up. He exchanges four sliding fingers for a single digit pressed against his asshole. Lip’s entire body tenses, from toes to jaw. Karen either sees it, or feels it, because for the first time she stops watching and starts touching. She grabs his dick and works him back to hardness as Sam does nothing except keep up the steady pressure.

Only when Lip’s as comfortable as he’s ever gonna be does Sam move onto the next step. How Sam knows, when it’s been basically soundless except for the jock-rock Blink 182 blasting out of the speakers, Lip doesn’t know. Just one minute Karen’s jacking him off as Sam touches his ass, and the next his index finger is sinking into him. Just a bit, because he can’t help but tense again, and Sam is too gentlemanly to shove past tense muscles. It’s just so fucking weird. What the fuck, Ian. Be gay, whatever. Aesthetically, it’s fine. Guys can be pretty, Jason Momoa is proof enough of that. A hundred blowjobs for Jason Momoa, it’s fine. But asses, what the _fuck_.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy that wants me to nibble his ear,” Sam says.

“If you sexy-blow in my ear I’m going to fucking punch you,” Lip replies honestly. He can’t stand that shit from girls he’s hella attracted to. A male’s not going to change that.

Eventually his body relaxes enough to accept Sam’s full finger. Added length does not give him a sudden epiphany. It’s still weird. Two fingers, the second added in the same stop and go, wait for his body to accept it rhythm, and it still doesn’t make sense. 

Until it does. Sam doesn’t try to bump it up to three, never mind that Lip’s not nearly stretched open enough to get his dick wet. Once his middle finger is fully situated three knuckles deep, Sam starts rocking his hand. Lip shudders against Karen’s body, because what the fuck, and why is Sam’s hand moving around like that, like he’s testing angles, like Lip is some fucking protractor or something it’s-

“Ahhh shit!” Lip shouts, completely out of control of his own body. Sam’s fucking found something inside his ass, something electric, and it punches words out of his mouth and makes him throw his head back. The shocky bliss diminishes as suddenly as it bloomed as Lip’s head makes contact with Sam’s forehead and he bites his tongue with the impact.

“Ow. Shit. you’re lucky you didn’t give me a bleeding nose.”

Lip’s had sex with a girl with a bloody nose before. Got it in a mosh pit at a cheap underground show. It was fun, if a little messy. Lip can see this being different though, considering Sam doesn’t have the rock concert moshing endorphins going on.

“Lip, don’t do that again. Just like, kiss me, okay?” Karen instructs.

“Sorry?” he offers, not particularly contrite. Sam basically brought it upon himself with whatever that was.

“Seriously, don’t headbutt me again,” Sam threatens.

Lip tries to keep the delicacy of middle class white jocks in mind as things progress, but it’s difficult. That place in his ass is like a thumb pressing into the slit of his dick, like getting punched in a good way, and Sam. Keeps. Poking. It. Fucking jesus christ, he can barely catch his breath as Sam picks up the pace.

“Awww shit. Awww shit. Oh fuck.” It’s a mantra, he can’t stop, this is why he rarely has sex at his house. Even if he somehow got the room to himself, Ian at work and Carl setting off fireworks or melting dolls or some shit, he’d never get the whole house to himself, and the walls are thin. Lip’s not sure if the too loud Blink 182 and the too loud CSI have fixed things, or if Sam’s family are strangely okay with hearing each other, but he couldn’t shut up if someone offered him a thousand bucks. The time at Karen’s kitchen table was a fluke, a lucky fluke that just about gave him an aneurysm.

It’s only when he’s almost coming that he realises he’s being shitty. This is not a threesome, Karen might as well be wearing a nun’s robes for how much he’s touching her. She’s not even fingerfucking herself. 

“Stop, you gotta stop. I’m about to come.”

Sam fucking flagrantly doesn’t stop. If anything, he speeds up a fraction.

“Fuuuuck, I said-”

“Maybe when we’re older we’ll have to ration them. For now, it’ll be easier to get inside you if you’re relaxed from orgasming already.”

That is upsettingly close to the advice from Sam’s dad. What the fuck.

It’s also alarmingly appealing, the thought of something bigger-wider-firmer jamming against the nerve inside him. What the serious fuck.

Karen leans in, kisses him on the chin. “It won’t be one of the bad ones, seeing you come like this. Do it.”

Given permission like this, Lip stops doing his ragged best to get himself back under control, to hold himself back. He lays there on his side, ass going wild as he moans a nonstop stream of ‘aww fuck, oh god, oh shit’, crazy with sex-Torettes like Veronica’s brother. It’s six, maybe seven direct hits until he’s jizzing all over Karen’s hand, using all his willpower to not snap his head back again. Breaking Sam’s nose won’t get a dick in his ass.

Lip barely feels the third finger Sam adds, brain and body lost in the afterglow. He doesn’t always have sex in scenarios safe enough to allow for post-sex blissful exhaustion. It’s like his body knows that, and overcompensates for those jeans-up-and-run events by having him melt into a vat of goo when possible. He does, however, feel it when Sam pulls his fingers out entirely. It’s fucked up, but objectively interesting that he immediately yearns for something to fill him, despite not feeling gay. Sam lines a condom sheathed dick against his open hole, and pushes in.

Fuck. Shit, fuck. Yeah, this is pretty much exactly what he was talking about in the broke down van, when he told Ian gay sex couldn’t be good for you, that the digestive system works one way. Maybe the gay ass nerve thing has died, or gone numb like some girls clits do after multiples, because there’s nothing good here. Lip bites the insides of his cheeks because he’s not going to whine like a baby, but doesn’t know what to do next.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. Take a breath, that’s it. I’ve got you,” Sam repeats. Lip does not want to be got. On second thought, he’s pretty sure that Sam’s happiness is unbearable and Karen is insane for putting up with it. Sex isn’t about this, for Lip. Sex isn’t about _coddling_.

Does he want Kash to have got Ian?

Yes, probably. He wants the best for him, even if Ian thinks the best is a shitty action that’ll hurt a lot of people if it comes out. But Lip isn’t Ian, isn’t craving a boyfriend, isn’t even craving a girlfriend, as much as he wants Karen to never leave his side. So there will be no more goddamn coddling.

“Fuck me,” he demands.

“Hold your fuckin’ horses, man” is Sam’s reply. And he proceeds to not fucking move.

Well no, that’s not quite accurate. Front flush to Lip’s back, except for where his pelvis is angled a few inches away, he doesn’t need to touch Lip any more. But he does reach his right arm over Lip’s side and delve into Karen’s cunt. This close Lip can hear how wet Karen is, even over Mark singing about living like Jack and Sally if they want, such a fucking Hot Topic faux outsider bullshit lyric. Watching Karen fall apart on the same fingers he did is a hot enough distraction for his tense body to begin to calm.

Sam fucks into him in increments. He never pushes, despite the way the kindness makes Lip itch, just moves whenever the vise grip of his asshole loosens to a normal clench. Then, finally, there’s no more to move. Sam’s no Roger Spikey, he’s not twelve inches of manmeat. Thank fuck. Ian, what the fuck were you thinking, that better have just been a hummer or a handie. Sam stays still buried inside him for at least a minute, long enough to allow him the concentration to play with Karen’s breasts and help get her there. 

Only once she’s done wailing through her orgasm does Sam start fucking him in earnest. Remotely Lip’s glad he got to hear Karen first, because once again he’s reduced to “awww shit, ohh, oh fuck” as Sam nails what he can only fucking think of as his gay button, at least until he gets home and steals the laptop from whomever’s currently got it for anatomy research. Chicago public school sex ed did not prepare him for a gay nerve in his ass fucking melting him into slag.

Having come once already does nothing to slow his descent to orgasm. Lip feels like he’s hurtling there like he’s the rock in a slingshot, doesn’t know where he’ll crash and how much devastation it’ll cause, only knows he cannot be stopped. Fuck, fuckin’ Ian, Ian was so right. He already was going to protect his secret and kick the ass of the next person to jokingly call him a fag, but now beyond that he’ll know that person is just idiotic.

It makes Lip feel better, in a distant way, that despite basically being a sex god machinating both their bodies, Sam still comes before Lip gets there a second time. It doesn’t do to give too much power to middle class jock boys. Sam bucks into him with a little more oomph than normal, and presses his lips to the back of Lip’s neck, probably in effort to not exhale across the side of his face and ear and get knocked out. Lip can feel the pulse of Sam coming inside him, and can’t tell if it’s repulsive. How can he hate it entirely if it’s what he’s asking every girl he sleeps with to accept from him? He despises hypocrites nearly as much as despises neglectful abandoners and moronic drunks.

Sam doesn’t stay inside him as he gets soft. Instead he pulls out, ties off and chucks the condom, and scrounges around the sheets until he finds the discarded lube, and resoaks his hand. It’s with a shiver of relief that Lip reclaims Sam’s steadily pumping hand. Who would have thought stuff in his ass would ever be deliverance, yet here he is, all but begging for it. Holy shit, is that four fingers? That might be four fingers. His ass might be stretched enough to accept four fingers. Jesus, what the fuck.

Lip comes a second time stretched obscenely wide. The dimensions of it all matter less than the fact that he is, that he is and it’s _good_. Karen is kissing him, light open mouthed kisses scattered all around his face because she knows he doesn’t have the concentration to thrust his tongue against hers in their usual way. His eyes are clamped shut because it’s so fucking good he might start crying otherwise.

It’s Karen who’s able to restart him from the limp mess of a human he currently feels like. She slaps him on the hip, some numberless amount of minutes after Sam’s done working him over. Lip jolts enough to open his eyes, and there he sees Karen reaching for her bra.

“Come on. I need to get home. The sooner the better. With that asshole gone, she gets lonely quicker.”

“Oh, your dad finally left?” Sam asks, proving at least rudimentary knowledge of Karen’s life. Lip isn’t sure if he likes that. He wants to not be jealous. He truly doesn’t care how many people Karen fucks. Never has, never will. He just wants to be the one who gets told everything about her daily life. Not this kind conscientious blonde asshole.

“Yeah. He caught me blowing Lip’s brother, and got to pretend it was his last straw. Fucking prick.”

“Fuckin’ prick,” Sam agrees. He quickly moves away from the ill manners of cursing though, offering, “I’ll give you two a ride home?”

“Get up, Lip. I wanna go before she gets sad.”

What else can he do but get up and get dressed, knowing that prick or not, said last straw happened because of him, because he was trying to cure Ian with some really good heterosexual sex? Lip’s underwear sticks to the lube coating his ass the second he tries to tug them up his legs. Gross. If they had ten more minutes he’d want to shower in Sam’s ensuite. Motherfucker probably has artisanal soap, some Lush shit rather than whatever’s cheapest at the grocery store. But he doesn’t, he’s not being a dick to Karen after everything, so he’ll just have to cross his fingers that there’s an ounce of hot water left at home.

Sam drops them off at Karen’s with little fanfare. He leans over the gear stick to kiss Karen goodnight, seems to know better than to twist and try the same with him. As his car speeds off, Karen refocuses her attention on Lip, which makes him squirm a little. Which makes him squirm a _lot_ , because the sitting in the back seat definitely drove his underwear up his sticky crack, and they’re refusing to pull away from his skin now.

“Got what you wanted?”

Coming from her it’s extremely non-judgmental, and still Lip wants to explain himself. He can’t out Ian, not even to the person who holds all his secrets, but he can give her a piece of it. “Yeah? I mean, I still think I’m straight. It was fun, but it wasn’t fun because it was him, a him. It was just sensation. You know? Like, if you got a strap on, we could try that shit again next week.”

“Or I could just finger the fuck out of you the next time we’re screwing in the busted van in your back yard.”

Lip purses his lips a little and gives an acknowledging nod. “It would be cheaper.”

“So assplay is a go. I’ll keep it in mind.” Karen steps close for her goodnight kiss, and gives his asscheeks a saucy little squeeze. “Night, Lip.”

“Night Karen,” he returns.

She turns to walk up her sidewalk, and Lip turns to begin his walk home. Oh, that feels weird. He can definitely feel that he got plowed. Now he wants a list of all the times Ian’s fucked Kash, gotten fucked by Kash. Did he ever unknowingly make Ian run from the cops afterwards, or bike around in the moonlight to avoid Dad’s asinine behaviour, ever tax his worn out body? Ian won’t tell him, and Lip probably won’t ask, but it’s enough to make him think. Maybe he should be treating Ian a little different after his shifts at the store, assume they’re dates unless proven otherwise. Few people in the South Side are going to accept him, or accommodate him, Lip’s certain of that. If Lip’s the only one who can manage, well, he damn well will.


End file.
